Hired Help
by emily.myra
Summary: Draco Malfoy is in desperate need of assistance, being a single father is hard and who better to give a helping hand than hired help. Hermione Granger is that help.
1. Chapter 1

The funeral was a quiet affair. While many had expressed condolences at her passing Draco had requested that the funeral be kept as small as possible to avoid upsetting the precarious situation further. Her parents had been informed, but sent their apologies. The weather in the South of France was just too good to pass up. Her sister had come. Instead of dawning black like the rest of the mourners she had worn white. White so bright it lit up the dreary March day. Scorpius, only two, had been unable to take his eyes off his aunt. Draco figured it was because she was undeniably out of place and was unlike anything the toddler had ever seen.

After the funeral Daphne approached him. She asked, quietly, if what the Daily Prophet reported was true, if her sister's death was an accident. Draco laughed darkly. In a sense it was indeed an accident, but the accident had not been hers. It was his for not being there in her darkest moments. She had indeed intended and succeeded at taking a powerful sleeping potion before sinking into the marble bath tub. Regardless of the blame Draco placed on himself he knew, for a fact, that Astoria Malfoy, nee Greengrass had never quite been right. If had not been for the arrangement he would never have married her.

In the end Draco had not been required to answer Daphne's question. She knew from the look on her brother-in-laws face and the laugh laced with grief and guilt.

Draco sat by his wife's grave for a long time with Scorpius on his lap. The boy sat very still listening to his father's heartbeat and stead breathing. Draco knew there was no way to explain death to a child so small. He tried anyway and was met with the round grey eyes that were so much like his own that did not comprehend the words that his father spoke.

When it was time to leave the grave side Draco once again spoke to his son;

"Say goodbye to mum Scorpius. We will come back a visit soon."

The child did not speak, but waved his chubby hand towards where his mother had been lain to rest. Astoria had not always been the best mother, but Scorpius small face expressed some form of understanding. Understanding that something had changed and understanding that the feelings that radiated from his father were ones of sorrow. In many years' time there would be no recollection of this day for Scorpius, but the vague hauntings of sadness would occasionally cling to him when he thought about his mother. A woman he never got the chance to know.

Narcissa Malfoy volunteered to look after her grandson while Draco adjusted to life without his wife not out of love, but out of the fact that she could not shake the feeling that it was her motherly duty to undertake the task. Where Astoria had failed at many motherly duties due to her health, Narcissa failed mostly because she had never taken on the duties herself. Draco, as an infant, had been handed off to a wet nurse and once he had out grown her he went on to a series of other nurses and nannies who reared her son for her. She had taken pride in her fair son, there was no doubt about that, but she had had more pressing things to attend to. Like luncheons and charity functions. Upon reflection Narcissa knew that she and Lucius' choice in parenting had been a mistake, but it had simply been the way things were done then. And so she tried to make it up to Draco by playing nursemaid to the toddler who was the sole inheritor of the Malfoy name.

Draco did not doubt that his mother loved Scorpius dearly, but she loved him in much the same way Astoria had. Everything went swimmingly until the child started screaming, or fussing, or refused to nap. Then it went to hell in hand basket. There had been countless times Astoria had flooed Draco at work demanding he come home and sooth her wailing child. He had come when called. His love for Scorpius the only thing that was able to curb his Malfoy pride at being paged like a nurse maid. Some days it had been as simple as changing a nappy and going back to work. Other days he had been forced to talk his wife out of delusions of demons and spirits coming for her baby. Those days had been hell for all parties involved. Scorpius, sensing the unease, would wail and nothing would sooth the boy. The screaming would drive Astoria to the edge and Draco was left to pick up what remaining pieces were left by such a destructive force. Leading up to her death there had been many days where Astoria had been delusional, paranoid, and scared. Draco himself had felt himself slipping into his wife's madness. While his mother was not insane she exhibited some of the same behaviours; a strong dislike for screaming children (and there had been much more screaming now that Astoria was gone), a bad habit of disappearing without leaving a word, and just general neglectfulness that was not meant to harm, but was common among mothers with too much time and money.

Narcissa managed to care for the child without fault for a month. One evening Draco returned to the manor after work to the sounds of his son screaming. Scorpius was in the nursery, in his crib, with no sign of Narcissa anywhere. Draco was unable to supress his fury. Instead of taking it out on his mother, he did what any self-respecting single father would do, he sat down and began the process of hiring a nanny.

It was something he had been putting off for ages. His horrible experiences at the hands of hired helped were occasionally the cause of nightmares. There had been the particularly harsh German one that had joined the household when Draco was nearly Scorpius' age. He couldn't recall her name, but the smell of sauerkraut came to mind. She hadn't lasted long under Narcissa's intense gaze, but the impression had been lasting. There were many others that had come through, most didn't last long under the regime of the Malfoys. Draco did remember a young nurse that he had been fond of. She was French, dark complected, with black hair that she had worn in a braid. She had snuck him biscuits when his mother wasn't watching. She had been fired when his father noticed her beauty and his mother became jealous.

In his mind Draco tried to imagine all the qualities a nanny in his household would have to have. Young and energetic were necessities due to the fact that his son was a busy boy who required constant attention. There would be no sitting down on the job. She would have to be able to sing to some degree (lullabies were non-negotiable) and have a good reading voice. She would most likely be the one to teach Scorpius how to read and write and do basic math. He would need someone intelligent. Smart enough to make decisions on the fly when he was not around to make them, but also be able to follow a routine that he would decide prior to her arrival. By the end of his pondering he realized that he had a tall order to fill. He also knew that he would accept nothing but the best. Regardless of how long it would take to find it.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione Granger was amazed at, upon reflection, how different life could be if only one small thing changed and in the end it wasn't a thing that had changed, but it was her very being that was not the same. She had tried, honestly, to do exactly what was expected of her; working diligently at the ministry, have a steady with the intention of raising a big family, enjoy the fruits of winning a war that at the time she had felt was being waged against her very person. Only it hadn't quite worked out the way she had expected and been told it would. She felt that in the end, even after ten years, it didn't matter. Voldemort was just one evil, physical object that had to be overcome and when he had been defeated the evils of bureaucracy still reigned supreme. In the end money still talks even in the wizarding world. Hermione's job at the ministry was one that was glorified. She was a golden paper pusher, the war hero with a stamp, and she couldn't stand it. She had tried for a long time, but when she was over looked for a promotion in favour of a less than ideal male, she, in a sense, lost it. She wasn't sure if she was over looked due to the fact that she was a woman or to the fact that she was a muggle born, but it didn't matter, it served as the final push she needed. Ron had promptly informed her that she was crazy. He had even gone as far to suggest that she was just hormonal. It was shortly after that he was caught with his hand up a floozy's skirt. By the time he made it back to their shared flat she was gone. For all of five minutes Hermione had told herself that she could forgive him, she could love him, she could have him. Then she packed what few belongings she had felt were truly hers and was gone.

That was seven years ago.

Getting up on her own feet was hard. Much harder than she expected. She rented a room, there was no way she could afford her own flat. Even the scariest parts of civilized London were far above her means and meager savings. The room was ideal though. It suited her needs.

Then there was the problem of finding a job. She bounced around for a time; book stores, apothecaries, and even a muggle museum. Nothing was quite the right fit. Then it hit her in the face. Quite literally. Sitting in the park, dreading going back to dreary room with not a soul to confide in, a rattle was shaken and then bopped on the end of her nose. Looking at the toddler in the pram had been a wakeup call, big baby blues boring into big chocolate brown. All the summers' spent running after her neighbours children and then Ron and Harry (and to be honest they were kind of the same thing) had been some of the best of her life. And she was good at it. And there would be a chance, even a small one, that she would be able to teach and influence children. Which, in the end, was all she really wanted. She wanted to be a part, a crucial part, of someone's life. Preferably someone small.

Finding the job had been much easier than she expected. Opening up the Daily Prophets classified page the ad practically glared at her: _Mrs. Cotton's Magical Nanny Agency seeking young witches with astute child caring skills_. Hermione had her resume and cover letter sent within the hour. The agency responded, with the wish to hold an interview, at the end of the week and for once in a very long time things were looking up.

Hermione got the job. She aced the interview. She donned the basic uniform and felt like she finally belong to something. Something dedicated to helping without the strings of the ministry. Her first assignments were hard and she remembered each day to try and learn something that would improve her job performance. She had been told upon getting the position that her status of war hero did not guarantee anything. Hermione took this to heart and quickly rose through the ranks gaining a reputation as a wonderful nanny to even the most difficult children. Her friends were more than shocked that she had any affinity for children. Ron had appeared, uninvited, one evening once again asking if she was crazy. She forcibly removed him and once again promised herself that she would never speak to the git again. A promise that was ridiculously hard to uphold by times. It wasn't that she missed him exactly, but sometimes on the lonely nights when the London fog pressed hard against the window pane she thought on her charges and wished dearly for a child of her own. Ron was still willing to give that to her if she would only take him back. By the morning those pesky thoughts were gone and as she stepped into her navy skirt she looked forward to the day.

Sometimes, late at night, Hermione remembered the war and she thought on all the choices that brought her to the present. In a strange way the war had been the most stable time in her life. Sure, she was gallivanting across the county looking for something she wasn't even sure existed to defeat a man that seemed nigh unbeatable, but she had been with her friends. Friends she hardly saw now that adulthood had swallowed them whole. On those nights she yearned to go back, even if it meant war, to be with them again. To feel whole. Hermione would shake herself from her thoughts once she went that deep and focus on something else. Since joining Mrs. Cotton she had perfected the art of knitting. Her hats and socks had some along way since S.P.E.W. and she could even make sweaters when she put her mind and fingers to it. These were the crafts she chose when her mind went into the darkness of remembering and wishing.

On a clear Monday morning in November Hermione headed to the Agency to receive her newest assignment. The child she had most recently been in charge of had turned eleven and was off to Hogwarts in the fall. The family no longer required her assistance. As sad as she was to go Hermione knew that it was time. She had taught the girl to read and write and do basic math. She had knit her jumpers and socks and other items. She had taken her to museums and plays and furthered her interest more than Hermione had even imagined possible.

Upon entering the building Hermione spotted a man with a toddler attempting to juggle not only the dipper bag, but his brief case as well. Without thinking Hermione reached out and took the dipper bag from him; she understood just how challenging it could be to manage all three at once. The man turned and offered her a grateful smile, but it died on his lips. She too was shocked.

"Malfoy?"

"Granger?"

Hermione looked at him and then at the child in his arms. The babe was the spitting image of her father.

Before the conversation could continue Mrs. Cotton briskly entered the lobby. The short plump witch was the image of maternal. She wore the same basic uniform as Hermione, but she did not wear the expression of one who had been recently electrocuted. She grinned upon seeing the pair.

"Ms. Granger I see you have already met Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione put the remaining pieces together. Malfoy was to be her next assignment. She attempted to make her face neutral and stepped back from her former enemy.

"Mr. Malfoy."

She greeted him formally and vowed to do so from this moment on for she was the hired help.

**AN: I love all reviews, so let me know what you think. I'm a little nervous putting this out here, but I'm really enjoying writing it. All my love, Em. **


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione's first day at the Manor left her nothing short of a wreck. She had arrived promptly at eight as she had been instructed. Stepping out of the fire place she had been met with her memories of being there ten years earlier. The foyer had been given a makeover. Where her memories were dark the hall was light and airy. To her right was the door. The door that had led to the unveiling of their identities to that psychotic witch who had left Hermione with a permanent scar. After the war Hermione had visited all the specialists in Europe and not one was able to remove the ugly thing that marked her as unworthy in the eyes of so many. She had learned to wear longer sleeves as much as possible to save herself from unexpectedly glancing at it as well as shielding it from her charges. There was no way to explain that to a child and, if she were being completely honest, she had never quite gotten used to seeing the word _mudblood_ carved into her arm. When she did happen to see it she was prone to bursting into tears or was overcome with the desire to scream until something, anything, changed. Upon arriving at the Manor it had taken all of her willpower to not turn tail and go back to her little room and snuggle up under an afghan.

She summoned up all of her famous Griffindoor courage and finally stepped away from the hearth.

Doing so broke whatever spell she was under. Draco came out of a door to her left and appeared genuinely glad to see her. With one final glance at the door she silently prayed she wouldn't have to step through she followed Malfoy down to the kitchen to become better acquainted with Scorpius and his father.

Draco had been hesitant to allow Hermione Granger into his home for a number of reasons, some of them valid and some of them not so. Draco had no good reason to trust the witch with the only bright spot in his life, but he had spoken to her pervious clients, in person, and they had only spoken of her with fondness and admiration. He had stewed about it long and hard before agreeing to a trial period. After all, he had required that the nanny be intelligent and quick witted. Both things he knew Granger to be. He also considered the six month period of other nannies that had quickly come and gone. Many of them had been good with Scorpius, but lacked something he couldn't quite name. Some of the nannies the agency had suggested and sent for a trial had been so dimwitted he had dismissed them on the spot based on the dopy expressions they wore. Scorpius was only two, but he was bright and would need a firm hand that would not fall for his tricks and cute face.

Hermione Granger showed no signs of dimwittedness during the entire trial period and after a week of her spending nine hours a day five days a week with Scorpius Draco could not deny the improvements. While Scorpius was too young to understand his mother's death in words he was able to sense the changes in his home. While Astoria had not been the most loving woman she had been a nearly constant presence in his life. With her sudden disappearance Scorpius had been prone to throwing fits and was nearly impossible to put to bed. Draco was impressed with Hermione's ability to set a follow a routine. By her third day Draco was already finding it easier to put his boy to bed and he now slept through the night. A miracle that hadn't happened since Astoria's death.

The elf he had assigned to watch Hermione while he was at work informed him that Scorpius was delighted with her and when Draco had happened upon them in the nursery one afternoon he began to understand why. The witch sat on a large poof with her legs crossed and in the hollow space between her thighs sat his son. She was reading to him in a voice that was both low and intriguing and then she surprised him by creating different voices for the different characters which amused his son to no end. The look on Scorpius face was one at peace and Draco Malfoy knew then and there that she would have to stay. The feeling of peace and calmness had been the thing Draco could not name. Hermione, magically it seemed, instilled it where she went.

While Hermione knew that she was doing a good job with young Scorpius Malfoy she was waiting for the ball to drop any day. It seemed too farfetched to imagine that Draco Malfoy would actually allow her to stay on as his nanny and, if she were being honest, she wasn't sure she wanted to stay on. After her trial Draco called her into his study. She had stood awkwardly in front of his desk attempting to not appear awe struck by the amount of beautifully bound books that lined the shelves behind Malfoy's head.

"As you are aware Miss Granger your trial period ended today and if you are still keen I would be pleased to have you on full time."

Hermione had to forcibly snap her jaw shut before he made some comment about it.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, but why?"

She could have kicked herself for asking as his eyes bore holes into hers. The ice of his eyes made goose bumps break out over her arms.

"Well, in all honesty, you are the only one I can stand. We have been looking for someone for six months now and you are, apparently, the only witch in the county suitable for the job."

Hermione didn't know if she should be insulted or flattered. The tone of his voice left it rather ambiguous. He continued:

"And evidently you and I are able to move on from the past we obviously share and are able to have a professional relationship. I see no reason why you should not become a permeant part of this household's staff."

Draco of course had not informed his mother of this arrangement, but that battle was for another day.

Hermione gave Malfoy a small smile:

"I would be honoured to continue working with your son Mr. Malfoy and I will see you Monday morning at eight sharp."

Once the study door was shut firmly behind her, Hermione put her head in her hands. She had been seriously debating quitting once the trial period was over but, the words had popped out of her mouth before she had registered that it was her heart speaking not her head. She felt that she had made a connection with Scorpius and she also felt the desire to continue. Not to mention Malfoy had always been courteous and professional with her and seemed genuinely inclined to keep her on as a nanny. Hermione was more than a little bit shocked, but managed to keep it together long enough to get back to her little room.

Harry and Ginny were going to have a field day when they found out about this.

**A/N: I am not totally thrilled with this chapter, but let me know what you think anyway. I am always open to suggestions and all comments are welcome. I love to know what you guys think. All my love, Em. **


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione had been corrected in her assumption that Harry Potter was not going to be thrilled or impressed with her new assignment. Ginny, thankfully, had kept rather quite about the whole affair. There she was, six months after the trial period, sitting at the Potters kitchen table listening to Harry's favorite rant on the subject. On her knee she bounced James Sirius Potter who was the spitting image of Harry. James was a chubby toddler with a happy disposition Hermione reckoned he had not inherited from his father.

Harry had just gotten to the part in his speech where death eaters became the focus when Hermione finally interrupted. Ginny chimed in her agreement,

"Hermione's right Harry. That's enough. Regardless of the facts if anyone can handle that git it's Hermione."

"And he needs the help."

Harry crossed his arms and scowled at nothing in particular.

"Oh come on Harry. Can you imagine the wreck you'd be if I were gone?"

Harry visibly paled at the thought and moved closer to wife and wrapped his arms around her. Ginny continued:

"I feel bad for him really. All alone in that damned old house, no wife, just him and the baby…"

"Don't forget his mother." Hermione remarked absently while feeding James another bite of a biscuit.

They all chuckled at that, but Hermione knew that Ginny was right. Of all the challenges she faced in that household the job of giving Scorpius love was the biggest. In no means did she mean that Draco was a bad father, in fact he was an excellent father who was extremely capable. She had imagined that Draco would be like Lucius: cold, heartless, and indifferent toward children. Hermione had never been more wrong about anything in her life. When it came to Scorpius, and only Scorpius, Draco was the kindest man she had ever born witness to, but in the end it came down to the fact that Scorpius was in need of a woman's touch. There was only so much Draco could supply and it was Hermione's duty to make up the rest.

She could see that he was changed man, but she didn't bother taking the time to explain it to Harry. It would have fallen on deaf ears. In ten years something's hadn't changed at all.

"I suppose my mother would come and stay with you Harry… I mean if something were to ever happen"

"How is Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione heard herself ask simply out of politeness.

Molly Weasley had not spoken a word to Hermione since the breakup. Hermione wish she had been surprised by this, but knew that there was no way Mrs. Weasley would ever forgive her for crushing her son's heart, at least that was what Hermione assumed. Except for Ginny Hermione hardly saw the others and maybe that was for the better.

"Ron was asking about you the other day," Harry remarked.

Hermione bit back the curse on the tip of her tongue.

"Oh? That was nice of him…"

Harry frowned:

"I think he misses you."

"I think seven years is bit late for that speech…"

Hermione didn't bother to add if Ron's way of showing his distress at her absent he did a piss poor job at showing it. Getting engaged to Lavender Brown and the subsequent articles about it appearing the social pages of the Daily Prophet had not softened Hermione to Harry's plea.

"Well. I think he wants it to go back to the way things were. When we were all friends. Don't you ever wish we could go back?"

Hermione sighed into her tea cup.

"Sometimes. Yes…"

"There is a 'but' isn't there? There always is."

Hermione smiled sadly.

"But, things are always influx, Harry. Nothing can stay the same forever. No matter what we wish."

Harry also smiled sadly, absently rubbing the scar on his cheek and then reached across the kitchen table and ruffled his son's hair affectionately. Harry and Hermione smiled at each other for a moment and then she leaned back in her chair, determined to enjoy the rest of her Sunday afternoon.

Across the country Draco Malfoy was attempting to enjoy his Sunday. While most weekends were enjoyable this one had started terribly. Friday he had returned home to find his mother perched in his office obviously waiting for him to return. Hermione had met him in the foyer, flustered from her encounter with Narcissa and flushed from yet another afternoon of chasing an excitable three year old. Normally she looked pleased to see him, Friday she had worn a look of pure displeasure. Thankfully she hadn't said anything she simply pointed towards his study and took her coat and disappeared into the floo.

His mother had started with a triad on the very shame having Hermione in his home was causing her. He wasn't exactly sure what shame she could be experiencing. She hadn't left the manor in months and most of her original social circle had abandoned her after the fall out from the war. Draco listened as carefully as he could until she had worn herself out on that subject.

And then she made a request of him:

"Will you come with me to visit him?"

Draco's pale eyebrows shot into his hairline.

"They're allowing visitors?"

"It has been over ten years since the sentencing…"

Any words that Draco could have mustered died. They didn't speak his name. They had covered his portrait and treaded carefully. Draco avoided all thoughts of his father for the better part of ten years. He had assumed that he would never have to see that man again and there sat his mother, in her second best suit, appealing to him to accompany her into the pits of hell. There was no way he could say no. There was no way he could bear to see him either.

"What about Scorpius? He cannot go there."

"Surly the elves can keep for a few hours…"

Draco nodded mutely.

Saturday was dreary. Scorpius sensed the discomfort in the air and screamed when Draco went to leave. He heeded Hermione's advice and simply left him crying. Apparently that was the only thing to do.

Azkaband was just as awful as Draco remembered from his first visits to his father. Even without dementors it was a terrible place that chilled Draco to the bone to with memories and left him feeling miserable before he had even walked in the door.

They had been lead to Lucius Abraxas Malfoy by a small balding wizard who had sized their wands upon entrance. The room was small, equipped with a table and three chairs. Draco opted not to sit due to nervousness which controlled his body. He attempted to steal his nerve. He called himself a coward and great number of other names to no avail. There he stood, twenty eight years old, and felt unable to face his father.

When the door opened again Draco was left with no choice. He was face to face with his father. Lucius had aged terribly in prison the first time and he had fared no better the second. His face was thin and sunken and sallow. Like a dead man. Draco was appalled and even more so when he was swept into an awkward hug. Not nearly as awkward as when he had been hugged by Voldemort, but the feeling of revolution was the same as he felt his father's boney hand on his shoulder.

The rest of the meeting had gone in a blur leaving Draco's head spinning.

Upon returning to the manor he shut himself in the study and drank until he had to crawl to his bed.

Sunday had dawned with sunlight.

Sunday had also dawned with the hangover from hell.

Sunday had also come with an enthusiast three year old who was determined to rouse his father from bed.

Draco scooped the child up and tossed him into bed next to him. This delighted Scorpius who put his chubby hands on his father's face.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

And those three words made the hell of yesterday disappear in a cloud of black smoke. Draco felt himself smile.

"I love you too."

**A/N: I know it has been a long time, but I have had a lot on the go. Anyway. I hope everyone enjoys and leave a review. I love all feedback and I also love to hear where you lovely readers think I should go with the plot. I am always open to suggestion. Love, Em. **


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